


Homebound

by silver_eagle



Series: Songs of the Dragons [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-10-18 23:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_eagle/pseuds/silver_eagle
Summary: After the events at the Tower of Joy, Ned Stark begins his journey home, weighed down by the promises he now has to keep.





	1. Starfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ned and the Targaryens reach Starfall.

Starfall.

Ned has never been here, despite the stories he’s heard from Maester Walys - who had always been fascinated by southron lords - in his youth. His time with the maester spoke of Starfall’s grandeur and House Dayne’s noble history, but they could never quite capture the beauty of the delicate-looking castle, and the sound of the Torrentine rushing behind them.

Lord Ulrick Dayne greets them in the courtyard. Despite his advanced age, his mere presence still commands attention. To his left is his second wife, Lady Floril of House Jordayne - a black-haired, green-eyed woman of an age with Ned. To his right is his son and heir, Arwyn. Tall and fair of hair, he greatly resembles his brother, Arthur.

“Welcome.” Lord Ulrick greets them with open arms. “House Dayne is honored to provide shelter, once again, to House Targaryen.”

Princess Elia smiles sweetly. “And we, in turn, are honored to receive your kind hospitality.”

“Our House is ever-loyal to Dorne and the crown.”

“As it should,” Ser Arthur says as he steps forward to embrace his father, then his brother.

Ned averts his gaze at the sight of the Daynes’ reunion, feeling a sad twinge in his gut. His thoughts stray to Lyanna’s last moments, then the home waiting for him in the North. What kind of reception shall he expect? Benjen will be there, but what of his distant bride and their newborn son?

He pushes his worries away as Lord Ulrick addresses him directly.

“Ah, and Lord Stark. Seeing our halls graced by a man of the North such as yourself is ever so rare.”

“Starfall is beautiful. The stories could do it no justice.” In this, Ned is honest. He has seen castles and keeps more beautiful than Winterfell, but to him, there is no place like home.

“We hope that you will, at least, find comfort in your stay here. The loss of Lady Lyanna must be very difficult for you.”

“It is.”

Lord Arwyn puts his hands on his hips. A pout darkens his handsome face. “Father, must we keep our guests standing here, in this heat?”

“Ah, forgive me.” Lord Ulrick turns to his guests. “Come. The servants are preparing a feast.”

“Most gracious of you, my lord,” Princess Elia says as they march inside, flanked by Starfall’s guards.

Ned hasn’t realized just how weary he is from the journey until they finally have a proper roof over their heads. The trek through Prince’s Pass was as daunting as he thought, with four children and numerous servants added to their party. A child wails behind him - Jaehaera - no, Jeyne. He has to get used to the Northern names the children shall be using.

“Where is Ashara?” Princess Elia asks no one in particular.

“She is nursing our littlest _ sister _, Allyria.” There’s something odd about the way Alwyn speaks, but Ned couldn’t point out what it is. Maybe it’s not for him to know. “She will be pleased to see you and Lord Stark.”

Ashara Dayne. It feels like the Tourney of Harrenhal was lifetimes ago.

* * *

The Daynes are gracious hosts - that, at least, Ned can attest to. His room is spacious and comfortable. Clothes fit for the Dornish heat are laid out on the bed in Stark white and gray. They fit him well enough, and the thin layers are a blessing in this accursed heat.

He’s in the middle of affixing Ice to his belt when someone knocks on the door.

“It is I,” a woman’s rich voice calls out.

_ Ashara. _

“Come in, my lady.” He fumbles briefly with Ice’s sheath before he straightens up, trying to look as dignified as he can. His gut twinges sadly as the door opens.

She is still as beautiful as he remembers, though the dark circles under her eyes speak of her troubles. She’s dressed in an unassuming plum dress today. “It has been a while, Ned.”

“They call me Lord Stark, now.” The voice that comes out of his mouth belongs to the green boy who watched his sister weep under the thrall of a dragon prince’s song.

“I am truly sorry about Brandon.” Ashara’s hand twitches briefly.

“Was he good to you, Ashara?”

“He was. But like many others, his desires were fleeting.”

Ned closes his eyes, remembering the dance with Ashara that Brandon had orchestrated. His brother took her to bed after that. “Still, my brother was a good man.”

“He was. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have offered to keep him warm in the Red Keep’s dungeons. He was too miserable to accept, you know.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Brandon I know.” And yet, Ned is now too aware of how terrible fates can change people.

“He accepted only once - the night before he died.” Ashara laughs bitterly. “He never knew that his seed was strong enough to leave me with child. It was why I left the Red Keep - and just in time. I do not want to be involved in that blasted war.”

“And yet here you are, helping House Targaryen.”

“Elia is a dear friend, and Queen Rhaella has been kind to me.”

“And what of the child?”

“The gods have taken her away from me.”

Ned pauses, thinking of what he had heard Lord Alwyn say earlier. “And yet she lives - as your sister.”

“Lady Floril’s daughter was stillborn, so father saw it fitting to raise Allyria as her own.” Ashara tilts her chin defiantly. “I have secured a name and a future for her, and I am still free to see her. It is a small price to pay.”

“The things we do for love.” Ned laughs bitterly. “I would wish to have her grow as a child of the North should, but you are right. This is the best for her.”

“It is.”

Ned sighs, thinking of his brother. How many more unclaimed children did he sire? _ Oh, Brandon _.

* * *

As promised, Lord Ulrick threw a modest feast for their guests. Wine and food flowed freely, while a bard sang of Florian and Jonquil while playing his lute. The songs left a bad taste in Ned’s mouth. All he can think of is Lyanna’s fate.

He finishes his meal as quickly and as politely as possible before excusing himself. He makes his way through the balcony, where he finds Jaime Lannister staring at the starlit sky. He pauses and observes the young man. While he seems to be as honest and honorable as Princes Elia claims him to be, Ned still doesn’t know what to make of him.

“Lord Stark,” the knight greets him, his golden curls bobbing as he nods politely.

“What are you doing here? Don’t Lannisters like you love feasts?” Ned regrets his words immediately. “I meant no offense, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime tilts his head and smiles grimly. “I wanted to be alone - to think. I might not be an intelligent man, but I am _ still capable of thinking _.”

There’s a bitter bite to his words.

Ned holds his ground. “I do not doubt that. After all, Lady Elia and her children would not be alive if not for you.”

Jaime laughs bitterly. “It was luck.”

“And yet here we are.”

“Aye. Here we are. You went all the way to the Tower of Joy to rescue your sister, despite Dorne’s possible hostility.”

“There are things we do for love.”

“I love my siblings too, and yet…” Ser Jaime hesitates. “My twin sister, Cersei, is very beautiful, but she is oftentimes cruel, too. I was blind to it but…”

“But?” Ned does not understand where this conversation is going.

“I worry for my brother - Tyrion, the one they call the Imp. Cersei hates him more than our father does, and I fear that she will hurt him. I - I used to defend my brother from her, but now that I am to go North… Lord Stark, it might be too bold of me but I wish to ask you for a favor.”

“A favor?” Ah, there it is - help offered in exchange of favors. Lannisters are said to be quite proficient in such deals.

“Please help me protect my brother, Lord Stark.”

Ned pauses, considering the young man’s words. Lyanna’s voice echoes in his head. _ Promise me _. It feels as if there’s a huge weight on his shoulders.

“I’ll make no reassurances, but I’ll see what I can do.” It’s the best thing to say. He can’t get tangled up in promises he couldn’t keep - or deals with people he cannot fully trust.

“I know you don’t trust me, Lord Stark, but thank you.”

Ned wonders if the world has gone mad.

* * *

Hours had passed since he left the feast, and yet he remains awake, struggling against the feeling of apprehension. It has nothing to do with the heat, and everything to do with the journey ahead of him. He knows not what he will face when he returns to the North - or even King’s Landing, for that matter.

His thoughts shift to Lyanna. Oh, poor, sweet Lyanna. She has gone from this world too early. A quiet anger simmers in him as he thinks of how Rhaegar had taken advantage of her naivete. He feels no pity for the Dragon Prince and his fate, but he regrets his part in this war. So much bloodshed could have been avoided had they all known the truth.

_ Promise me, Ned. _

He remembers the dead woman and children presented to Robert, their faces and bodies crushed beyond recognition, flesh and blood smeared on the blankets that covered their ruined forms. Robert was pleased, and refused to listen to Ned’s protests. Who did the Lannisters murder to gain the king’s favor? Why must Robert’s reign be built upon the murder of innocents?

He drifts off to an uneasy sleep, his dreams dominated by visions of shifting sands and dancing skeletal dragons.

* * *

Ned breaks his fast with Howland Reed. Though the men that Ned brought with him are all trustworthy, he can’t help but rely on the crannogman the most. There’s something quietly reassuring about Howland’s presence.

“You still mean to return to King’s Landing despite the danger?” Howland asks, his piercing green eyes peering at Ned. “Are you sure about bringing Lyanna’s children and Jaime Lannister to that viper’s pit?”

“I swore to Robert that I shall return as soon as I find Lyanna.” Ned’s voice breaks.

“Not all promises must be kept.”

“This, I must keep. Robert is still my best friend.”

“Your best friend, who ordered the deaths of the Targaryen children, which include Lyanna’s twins.”

“He will never know the truth.” Of that, Ned is sure. He would rather sully his honor and lie than put the children - and House Stark - in danger. “For Lyanna.”

Howland’s smooth face creases with a frown. “Words easier said than done.”

Ned knows. He’s spent all night thinking of things that could be. “But I must see King’s Landing for myself. We must know our enemies.”

He never wanted to play the Game of Thrones - the old gods and the new know it - but he knows his duty to his sister and House Targaryen. Elia made sure to remind him of that. Some things must be done, no matter how unpleasant.

_ Oh, Lyanna _.

Howland sighs, clearly resigned. “Then I must warn you. Last night, my dreams were green. I saw a golden dragon, dead upon the Iron Throne, the swords impaling its throat, surrounded by equally lifeless stags and lions.”

“Have you not told me before that your dreams can mean many things?”

“Aye. Still, it felt almost like a warning. Do promise me that you will take care.”

Howland’s words are ominous, and yet Ned knows he _ must _ go there before heading home. He comforts himself with the thought that these green dreams can mean _ anything _.

“I will,” he finally promises. “May I ask you one favor, old friend?”

“Anything within my power.”

“I want you to head to the Wall, to Maester Aemon. He must know what has transpired. I believe he can help us, despite his vows.”

Howland nods. “Very well. It will be done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! I finally got around to posting the sequel to Oathkeeper, Oathbreaker. This is going to be shorter, since I won't be covering events between Ned's destinations. Like the previous fic, comments will be moderated so we can maintain the positivity.


	2. King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned reunites with an old friend.

Ned can never get used to the stench of King’s Landing. The smell hits him like a blow the moment he steps off the plain, unnamed ship lent by the Daynes. Only Martyn Cassel and Howland Reed accompany him as he makes his way to the Red Keep. Few people wander the streets, save for soldiers who eye the Stark sigil on his armor, and the markets are half-empty.

It’s far from the lively yet wretched city that it’s known to be.

The Baratheon and Lannister guards positioned in the keep give him suspicious glares despite his direwolf sigil, but he holds his head high and pays them no mind - a trick to feign confidence that he had learned from Princess Elia herself. He needs it now more than ever, as he heads into a den of vipers.

Marching into the throne room after being passed around to  _ too many  _ people, Ned tries to keep his exhaustion at the very back of his thoughts. He is alone now, Howland having been left behind in some sitting room halfway through their walk. His eyes are on Robert Baratheon seated on the Iron Throne, and the men standing to his right - Jon Arryn and Tywin Lannister.

“Welcome back, old friend.” Robert holds his arms out in greeting.

Rage bubbles in Ned’s gut. It’s meant to be cordial, he knows, but all he can think of were the children killed to satisfy the king’s rage against  _ all _ Targaryens, innocence be damned.

“How did your campaign in Dorne fare?”

Ned could barely keep the grief away from his face. He bows his head, thinking of Lyanna and her children - a beacon in this nest of vipers. “We fought - and killed - the Kingsguard holding her hostage but Lyanna perished in the Tower of Joy.”

“Perished? What did they do to  _ my  _ Lyanna?” The young king balls his hands into fists.

_ She was never yours _ .

Lord Tywin inclines his head, raising a brow. “And what was she doing in the Tower of Joy in the first place, if I may ask?”

“She was with child.” Ned pauses as soon as he drops the words, as Elia had instructed, letting them sink in. He registers the shock on Robert and Tywin’s faces and feels a flash of satisfaction. “The missing Kingsguard were stationed there to protect her - or keep her away from us.”

“With child? Where is the  _ dragonspawn? _ ”

_ Dragonspawn _ . Hearing his nephew and niece reduced to such terms makes Ned’s blood boil, but he struggles to keep his composure. Giving in to his anger will make him no different from Robert. His dear sister’s last words ring in his head.  _ Promise me, Ned. Promise me.  _ He’ll do whatever it takes to protect the children and reclaim what they had lost. Lies will stain his honor, but there are things he must do for love.

“Dead. It was a stillborn monstrosity with silver scales on its skin and deformed wings.”

“It killed her, didn’t it? The dragonspawn killed  _ my Lyanna, _ ” Robert hisses in rage.

“I would advise you to calm down,  _ boy _ ,” Jon warns the king, as strict as ever. “Anger clouds judgement.”

Lord Tywin nods almost imperceptibly, his green eyes narrowing. “Rhaegar and his brood are  _ dead _ , but other Targaryens still live. It is time to take Dragonstone.” He glances at Ned, clearly gauging his reaction.

_ No _ . Ned schools his face into a calm mask. He must protect Lyanna’s twins. Elia and her children. Queen Rhaella. He hates the game, but he must play it now.

“My brother Stannis is already building a fleet to take Dragonstone,” Robert says dismissively.

“Do you think it will be enough, Your Grace?” Oh, Tywin must know of Elia and her children. He was the one who passed of strangers’ corpses as theirs, after all.

“What do we have to fear? They’re just one mad woman and her dragon whelp. They have no more  _ dogs  _ left to defend them.”

Oh, how wrong he is.

Jon Arryn does not seem to share his new king’s confidence either. “I would advise a swift and decisive action, Your Grace. Their supporters may be scattered, but many of them live still. Every day we waste will give them another chance to regroup in Dragonstone.”

“And yet we have no fleet to properly take it,” Ned argues. He must stall for time. Three more weeks is all they need.

“Ned’s right.” Robert waves his hand dismissively. “But let us discuss this later. You are all giving me a headache.”

Tywin’s face darkens ever so slightly. “Your Grace, these are important matters-”

“Later, Lord Tywin. Now if you would both excuse us, I want to speak to Ned  _ alone. _ ”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Tywin bows, but it’s quite easy to catch the cold glint in his eyes as he stares at his king, filled with unspoken fury. He sweeps out of the room, his crimson cloak billowing behind him.

“It is good to see you back,” Jon tells Ned grimly. “We shall talk later.”

Ned watches him leave too, a heavy weight settling in his gut. So this is what it’s like to play the game - dance around nothing but lies and deception. But he is a Stark, and he does what he must.

“Old men,” Robert growls as soon as they are alone. He rises to his feet to approach his friend, embracing him as he always does. “Seven Hells, it  _ is  _ good to see you, Ned. Jon has grown insufferable since we took this blasted place.”

Ned forces out a smile, despite his disgust. “Brandon used to say that the old often forget the wisdom of youth.”

“And he’s right.” Darkness clouds Robert’s eyes as his handsome face is filled with grief. “By the Seven, I still can’t believe she’s gone. I had hoped for better news when I heard word that you’re on your way back.”

“I had hoped for better things too when I reached the Tower of Joy.” That, at least, is the truth.

“The gods truly make playthings out of the best of us. But tell me, Ned, what happened there?”

_ Remember what you and Elia rehearsed. _ Ned sighs, reminding himself, yet again, that he is doing this for Lyanna and their children - to right his wrongs in playing a role in this godsforsaken war.

He speaks of a fabricated battle against the last - and best - of the Kingsguard, and how they only won through sheer, dumb luck. It’s certainly easier than talking about Lyanna’s death - despite the fact that a good portion of it is embellished. The only thing that truly stops him from weeping is the sight of Robert clenching his fists, and the disgust shooting up his gut.

“Seven Hells, they’re monsters. All of them.”

Ned stops himself from shaking his head. “Our anger won’t bring Lyanna back.”

“At least I have avenged her. I felt nothing but boundless joy when my hammer crushed her rapist’s ribs.”

White-hot anger bubbles within Ned - anger at Robert, anger at Rhaegar. They both had their part to play, even more so than Ned who had risen against King Aerys in vengeance. Or so, he thinks. Maybe he wrongfully believes himself to be more honorable and virtuous compared to them.

“Are you happier for it?” he asks Robert, letting his guard down for a brief moment.

“I should be.” The words left unsaid speak volumes. “It doesn’t matter. I am king now.”

“A king with his dynasty built upon the blood of innocents,” Ned finds himself blurting out before he can stop himself.

“This again? What would you have had me do?”

“Spare the women and children, at least. They had no qualms with you - mayhaps they may have been victims of their husbands and sires, too.”

Robert throws his head back and laughs. “Eddard, you silly old fool! If I leave one alive, who’s to stop them from gathering support and rebelling against me?”

He’s right, and Ned knows it. The Warden of the North himself is among those who shall be fighting under the Targaryen banner when the time comes. He loves Robert as a brother, but he loves his family more.

“We could have watched and waited. Not… not this.” Disgust bubbles in his gut again. He had allowed this to happen. He stood by and fought for Robert and did not see where it all led to. He was a fool. He still is.

“Not  _ this? _ Come now, don’t tell me Dorne made you soft in the head!”

“It hasn’t.” But Dorne changed him, nevertheless. “I simply worry about your decisions, and the honor of the folk you are surrounding yourself with.”

Robert’s blue eyes narrow. “Lord Tywin has been most helpful. He delivered me those dragonspawn and the Mad King’s remains himself. And Jon,  _ by the Seven _ , surely you must trust him.”

“I do.” Jon, Ned knows, can be reasoned with, but he’s just one man in a sea of cutthroats.

Silence follows his words. The two men regard each other, eyes boring into each other, gray against blue, both refusing to back down from their stances.

Robert is the first to break it. “Is there anything else you want to say, Ned?”

“None that I can think of. I must head home - Lyanna must be laid to rest.”

“And after that?”

“I will do my best to rule the North.”

“Are you sure about that, Ned?” A small, childish whine escapes Robert’s lips. “I would very much like you to be my Hand. It is a fitting reward for everything you’ve done for me.”

Ned shakes his head vehemently. “I will not be hand to a king who reveled on the death of the innocent.”

Anger ripples on Robert’s face and for a moment, it seems like he is about to lash out. It passes though, and the rage turns to exhaustion. “Then I won’t stop you. Will you not, at least, ask for a reward? We  _ used  _ to be like brothers. It is the least I can do.”

“All I want is safe passage for my party - I have my bastard children with me. And a fosterling for Benjen, when he takes Moat Cailin next year. I would prefer someone of Lord Tywin’s blood. He has many Lannister nephews and nieces, I have heard, and I’m hoping this might convince me that he and his brood can be trusted, after all.”

“A Lannister fosterling and…” Robert stops with a surprised snort. “Seven Hells, you have  _ bastard children _ ?”

Ned closes his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. He thinks of Lyanna. “Aye. I brought them with me on the way back from Dorne.”

“And the mother? Is it Ashara Dayne?”

“A simple wench.”  _ Lies _ . There’s nothing but vehemence in his voice - vehemence so strong it makes Robert take a step back. “But it is none of your business. I wish not to speak of it.”

The king pouts petulantly, but he does not insist. “Very well. I won’t. Is there truly  _ nothing else _ ?”

“Nothing.” Ned sighs. He suddenly feels older than he is.

“Then you are dismissed.”

Relief washes over Ned, but he doesn’t relax.

“He is as immovable as a mountain, that Robert,” Howland says as soon as he rejoins his liegelord.

“I know. But I had to try.”

“I don’t blame you for it. But now you know that what I said is true - your path is clear.”

Ned sighs, running his fingers through his tangled curls. “It doesn’t make it easier. Can I still trust you to do what I asked of you, back when we were still in Dorne?”

Howland bows his head. “I will do what I must to prepare you for the impending storm.”

Weariness settles upon Ned’s shoulders like a cloak. All he wants to do is to sail home, lay Lyanna to rest, and be with what remains of his family. Whatever peace the next years will bring shall be temporary, but he wants to enjoy it nevertheless.

Winter is coming, and this time, it shall bring fire and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly not my favorite chapter. I'm not in my best form, and it's far too talk-y for me. Had to get this out of my way so Ned can finally sail to Winterfell, though.


	3. Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned (and Lyanna) finally make it home.

An odd sort of weariness settles in Ned’s bones as he catches sight of Winterfell in the distance.  _ Home _ . All he wants is some reprieve, now that the war is over, but he knows there is much to be done.

Behind him, Lyanna’s babes wail and their nursemaid, Wylla, frantically attempt to shush them. They must miss the warmth of the South.

Ned turns his attention to his other companion - the other one remaining, now that the rest of his bannermen have veered away to march home. Looking at Jaime Lannister with his golden curls dyed black still takes some getting used to, but it will come in time. The knight looks up, meeting his eyes.

“So that’s Winterfell?” he murmurs, eyes wide as he takes in the looming keep.

Ned nods gruffly, though his wistful eyes never leave sight of his home. “It is nothing like Casterly Rock, I presume.”

“Indeed. And yet…” The boy trails off, shaking his head sadly as he glances away. “I  _ will  _ get used to the cold, Lord Stark.”

Though he raises his brow at the statement, Ned does not comment on it. He turns back to the rest of their party, the Stark banner flying freely over their heads.

A war horn blows thrice as they near the fringes of the winter town -- an announcement of Lord Stark’s long-awaited return. There are few people still remaining now that spring has come, but most of them are out on the muddy streets, watching and waiting.

Ned’s party rides on, past the small crowd of smallfolk. The young lord can hear them whispering at the sight of the wagon carrying Lyanna's plain casket - ill-fitting for someone like her, Ned knows, but it is the only kind that can endure the journey. His gut twists at the thought of his poor sister, dead too young and so far from home.

Still, he does his best to ignore their whispers, reminding himself that they know nothing.

With head held high, he marches on, sparing the throng of onlookers only the slightest of nods. Winterfell is at reach and he mustn’t falter.

The war horn blows thrice again as they near the East Gate. Soon, they ride over the drawbridge and past the walls leading to Winterfell and the Stark household, which is assembled in the courtyard.

At the head of the group is Lady Catelyn herself, dressed in a woolen gown of red and blue. Her auburn hair flows freely down her back, sweeping over her blue Tully eyes. A babe swaddled in gray wool slumbers in her arms, curly tufts of bright auburn hair peeking through. Ned feels his breath hitch at the sight of what is clearly his son. To his wife's right stands Benjen, clad in black, his thick dark hair framing an uncharacteristically grim face. His icy gray eyes seem to pierce through Ned - and rightfully so.

He had failed Lyanna.

"Welcome home, Lord Stark," Catelyn greets him as they come closer. "Your safe return gladdens me."

"Thank you, my lady." Ned pauses to peer at the squirming babe.

"I present to you our son, Robb."

The child in question stirs, curious blue eyes opening to peer at his father before he lets out a loud cry.

Smiling, Ned nods in approval as he watches Catelyn shush the child. "A spirited one."

Robb. Oh, how he regrets choosing that name now. Robert is nothing but a blind fool. Poor Lyanna. Poor Elia. Poor Rhaella.

"He has none of the Stark looks, but he has wolf's blood in him," Benjen says with a laugh that quickly dies off as he glances at the coffin. He takes one step closer to his brother. "Is that her? Lyanna?"

Silence is the only affirmation Ned can give. 

Ben’s face crumples into that of grief. With a loud wail, he rushes to the coffin, flinging himself toward it to weep. Ned strides after him with Catelyn at his heels. In the back of the crowd, one of Lyanna’s children wails.

“What is  _ that _ ?” Catelyn hisses in his ear.

A sigh escapes Ned’s lips. Dealing with this sooner would be better than making it wait, he supposes. “I would rather discuss this in private.”

He can feel the crowd’s eyes falling upon him,  _ judging  _ him over the children that he did not sire. It’s something he must get used to - after all, he must keep most of them fooled until the House Targaryen’s scions are ready to retake their throne.

There is no sign of warmth left on Catelyn’s face. “Then let us discuss it.”

“Not until Lyanna has joined Father and Brandon in the crypts.”

“Then have it done.  _ Now _ .”

Ned closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. There will be time for the last of the Starks to grieve. “Ben, it is time for us to bring Lyanna to the crypts.”

* * *

It’s almost nightfall when they finally convene in Father’s - no, Ned’s solar. Catelyn stands before him, anger clear on her face, clutching Robb close to her. Ben has settled down on one of the chairs beside Ser Jaime and Wylla, who are carefully carrying each of the slumbering twins in their arms.

“Now what do you wish to discuss with me,  _ Lord Stark _ ?” Catelyn asks vehemently. “What is there to discuss about these bastards?”

Ned raises his hand to preempt Ser Jaime, whose mouth has opened in outrage. “My lady, these children are not bastards. They are not my children to begin with, though it must appear to be so for now.”

“Not your children...” Ben blinks as his eyes shift between Ned and the babes. “They aren’t Brandon’s either, are they?”

“No, they’re not.”

Catelyn watches the brothers with narrowed eyes. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“On the contrary, my lady, your lord husband has decided to put his utmost faith in you,” Ser Jaime blurts out despite the warning.

“Who do you think you are?”

“Ser Jaime Lannister, of the Kingsguard. I have followed Lord Stark here as it is my sworn duty to protect my king.”

“My husband is no king-”

“But one of the babes he brought with him  _ is _ . Am I correct?” Ben’s gaze turns sharp. “These are Lyanna’s children.”

“They are.” Ned smiles. “There are things we must discuss. Please take a seat too, Lady Catelyn.”

His wife does as she is told, her face almost as white as snow. “What is the meaning of this?”

It only takes a moment for Ned to brace himself before launching into his story about his trip to the Tower of Joy, meeting Elia and the Kingsguard, and the steps he must do to keep his promise to Lyanna.

Night has truly fallen outside by the time he finishes.

“By the Old Gods… Lyanna…” Ben says, bowing his head as tears flow from his eyes.

“It was a dangerous decision to make,” Catelyn snaps. “You decided to harbor  _ Targaryen fugitives _ and plot against a man you have gone to war with - a man you called your brother”

Ned meets her angry gaze unflinchingly. “I have told you my reasons.”

Catelyn closes her eyes with a sigh. “You misunderstand me,  _ my lord _ . I know why you are doing this, but it is dangerous, nevertheless.”

“And yet I must do it because my honor and my duty to my family demands it.”

Silence falls briefly as Catelyn digests his words.

Ben is the first to break it. “Then what must we do, Ned?”

“We must prepare. Ser Jaime, are you truly comfortable with using the name Walton for the meantime?”

The knight nods resolutely. “I will do what I must.”

“Very well. Ben, we must prepare quarters for Wylla and Ser Walton. My lady, I hope you will let the twins share Robb’s nursery.”

A frown still creases Lady Stark’s face, but she nods nonetheless. “I will.”

“Good. Ben, we must fortify Moat Cailin. Will you accept your place as its lord?”

The younger Stark smiles grimly. “I do.”

“Then prepare yourself. Choose the builders that will venture with you in a sennight. It is time that we fortify the old stronghold. I shall also prepare Winterfell - and the rest of the North. It is time to further our defenses.”

“And what do we do next, after these fortifications?” Catelyn asks.

A wolfish smile graces Ned’s face. “We prepare House Stark for coming storm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, I know, but I'm not sure I can prolong it with unnecessary fillers. We'll see more of the Starks as I have a Cat POV fic lined up, but we'll be joining Elia and the rest of Team Dragonstone first.


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